


I just want to build you up, build you up 'til you're good as new

by frostysunflowers



Series: Tomorrow is another day [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Forehead Kisses, Irondad, Nebula & Tony Stark Friendship, Nebula (Marvel) Feels, Nebula (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sleepy Cuddles, Slice of Life, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Tony Stark-centric, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, like a massive heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 19:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19157077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: 'Nebula deserves love, and god knows, he’s got an endless amount to give these days.'orA look into Tony and Nebula's relationship in the days after the Snap.Can be read as a stand alone!





	I just want to build you up, build you up 'til you're good as new

**Author's Note:**

> God I got bit by the feels bug today and this just came pouring out. I've been working on two other fics that I really want to get going with, and yet this thing wouldn't leave me alone so here it is. Sorry if it's a mess, I literally wrote it in the space of three hours and It's pretty ooc for all the slush in it but I don't know, I just needed to write it that way, I guess. Basically my heart is still so very broken and I miss Tony desperately and this is the only way I know how to cope *cries* 
> 
> This is part of my Tomorrow is another day series but if you're reading as a stand alone, all you need to know is that everybody is alive and happy and frequently visits Tony at his lake house and that he and Clint take the kids to visit New Asgard at some point...I mean give it a read first if you like but I hope everyone can find a way to enjoy this regardless! This does feature a fair bit of Peter and a little bit of Morgan and Harley but the main focus is Tony and Nebula. 
> 
> Title and fic inspired by the song Atlas:Two by Sleeping At Last, along with a heavy helping of Lullabye (goodnight my angel) by Billy Joel because clearly I just like making myself sob endlessly.
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE - There is now amaaaazing fanart of this fic - [check it out!](https://emkayoh.tumblr.com/post/188157494465/in-new-asgard-the-night-sky-is-awash-with-stars%22%22)

 

It’s a long time before Tony is deemed fit to get out of bed. Attached to all manner of drips and monitoring machines and with Happy guarding the door nearly every hour of every day, there’s no way of escape. Not that he has anywhere to go, not that there’s anywhere to be, anything to do.

Thanos is dead, courtesy of Thor and his reliably mean swing.

The stones are gone and all their desperate hope with them.

Peter is still…

He rubs a hand furiously over his face, grimacing at the scratch of unruly bristles across his palm, hating the lingering weakness in his limbs.

''Someone to see you, boss.''

He looks up, ready to swear at whoever it is because he’s just not in the mood, but the venom dies on his lips almost instantly.

Nebula watches him from the doorway. There’s an odd look on her face and he realises it’s the same look she wore on the ship, the one he glimpsed through nearly closed eyes as she had lifted him into the pilot seat. Something full of regret and sadness with the barest hint of fondness.

''Oh, hey,'' he grumbles, shifting around in the bed so that he’s sitting up properly. ''You’re heading out soon, right?''

She nods, moving to stand beside the bed. Her fists curl and uncurl twice before she sits down in the vacant chair.

''Well, hope you don’t miss me waving you off,'' he gestures to his bedridden self, skin stretching thin as he tries for a grin. ''Social outings aren’t really my bag these days.''

She doesn’t say anything, merely continues to stare at him with that _look_ on her face.

''Don’t go too Rambo out there, yeah? Rhodey’s a bit squeamish.''

He knows that she has no idea what Rambo is but she nods as though he’s given her a serious order.

''Stark.''

''Tony,'' he corrects wearily.  

''Tony,'' she amends, pausing to consider her words before continuing. ''I…I am sorry – ''

''Don’t,'' he cuts across her sharply, closing his eyes immediately in apology for the harshness of his voice, trying to valiantly ignore the frantic skipping of the heart monitor. ''Don’t, Nebs.''

Nicknames had been one of the only pieces of normality that he’d been able to bring to their imprisonment in space, a ridiculous and strange sort of comfort that he clung onto for dear life, having nothing else except a murderous blue alien to help fend off the shattering agony of his loss.

As it turns out, that murderous blue alien was rather protective of him. Pepper had told him that after he’d passed out, Nebula had stormed over and seized Steve by the throat, lifting him up into the air and sending everyone else into a mad panic as she pressed him against the wall, snarling that she knew what he had done and that stronger beings had met the tip of her sword for lesser acts of betrayal.

A hand touches his shoulder, oh so gentle and delicate, and he sighs, tilting just a fraction into the touch.

He doesn’t see her for a long time after that; not in person at least. He knows she’s out there, working just as hard as the others to try and do some good, to try and find a way to channel the anguish that has absolutely no place to go.  She and Rhodey are together a lot and Tony is grateful for that, trusts Rhodey to do what he doesn't have the strength or desire to do himself anymore. 

He misses her.

* * *

 

It’s a stormy night when Morgan is born.

There’s no massive fanfare to announce her arrival, because these days, there isn’t that many people to tell. The compound is quiet save for the usual staff that still work there, loyal and steadfast or, in some cases, with nowhere else to go, and Tony is grateful for the peace as he sits beside a sleeping Pepper with a tiny warm body pressed against his chest.

They’d discovered that Pepper was pregnant shortly after Thanos’s death. It had been a strange moment; the feeling of absolutely delighted euphoria had quickly been snatched away on a rushing tide of darkness, because this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, how could they bring a child into this world of ruin and disaster, how could they carry on when they’d lost so much, when Peter was…

Pepper, ever the smartest woman alive, had merely held his hand, kissed his forehead and left him alone, knowing that no amount of talking would help him right now.  

He rages, he burns, he mourns, he resents the idea of happiness, of moving on because it doesn’t seem right, it doesn’t seem fair. Death doesn’t distinguish or discriminate; all it does it steal and take and destroy and demand that all those left behind keep on living anyway, and Tony hates it, hates it all with a furious vehemence that poisons his every waking thought.

He fights it, fights it and fights it, and then one day, Pepper presents him with the audio recording of a heartbeat, the heartbeat of their baby, of their _daughter_ as he later finds out, and then something changes inside, propels him to spirit Pepper away to a life of quiet living, moves him to finally take a step into a shadow of the life that should have always been the endgame; the end of the fight, the opportunity to _go home._

It’s a mere glimpse of what should have been, and though the happiness grows, it’s infused with a melancholy gloominess that sometimes dominates, sometimes retreats but never fully goes away.

He knows now as he looks down at the little life in his arms that Peter was the one to open the door to this life, to one to strengthen that dormant desire in him to love, nurture, protect in a way that he’d never understood before because it’s different from how he feels about Pepper, about Rhodey, and that was the only kind of love he'd really known until...

Until Peter. 

Something gives way in that moment and he can only hope the kid, wherever he is, can forgive him as he allows himself to embrace the overwhelming sense of joy that fills him as he holds his child close and coos softly to her long into the night.

Nebula and Rhodey arrive in the early hours of the morning. The soft knock on the door lifts Tony’s gaze from the bundle in his arms and he can’t help the smile that crosses his face at the sight of the two people standing in the doorway. The look on Rhodey’s face is unbearably gentle, proud and perhaps a bit wistful, and he crosses the room in quick strides to curl an arm around Tony’s shoulders and look down at the baby as she sleeps peacefully.

''Tones…'' he whispers, giving a short laugh as words fail him.

''I know,'' Tony whispers back, because yeah, that’s all that can really be said for now.

He looks up at Nebula, lurking uncertainly by the door.

''C’mon, Bluebell,'' he calls, the nickname falling naturally from his lips. ''She won’t bite.''

Nebula steps into the room, footsteps delicate on the floor as she moves to stand beside him, eyes lingering on his face before dropping down to stare at the baby.

Tony wonders if she’s ever even _seen_ a baby before, let alone a human one. For all the fierceness and hard edges that form the outside of her, there’s a softness to Nebula that can’t be denied. He’s seen it, knows that inside there is a soul that has been beaten and beaten and beaten, torn apart and ripped to shreds without ever having a chance to heal, leaving her constantly raw and angry and hurting.

And yet, she was the one to save him, watch over him as he fought against the infection coursing through his blood on a ship stranded in space and in return he pushed like he always did, butted his head against her barriers recklessly, ignoring every murderous glare and deadly cock of her head because what the hell else did he have to do except float there and pretend they weren’t going to die?

In the space of twenty-two days, he somehow broke through, found a way that began with games of paper football and words of praise that had her looking at him in utter bafflement. For all the reasons that he already hated Thanos, he found a hundred more as he slowly learned of just how much Nebula had suffered at his hands, and it’s that knowledge which makes Tony dig deeper and deeper as he finds that glimmer of softness within Nebula, dim and sputtering but still willing, still holding on despite all the hell the universe has put her through.

That softness is there as she slowly raises a hand and hovers it over Morgan’s head, inches away from the tuft of dark curls that poke up in delicate little wisps. Tony lifts the baby up just a fraction so that the palm of Nebula’s hand finally makes contact, fingers curling round just so that the tips brush against Morgan’s temple.

It feels like the longest time before she lifts her gaze to his and gives the tiniest nod, a gesture of approval that has Rhodey chuckling and Tony releasing the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

He misses Peter fiercely then, feels the ache right down to the depths of his weary soul and he leans into Rhodey for comfort, focuses on the enraptured glow of Nebula’s face as she continues to look at Morgan, and finds himself so immeasurably grateful for their refusal to ever leave him.

 

* * *

 

 He can’t quite believe it when the portals swirl open and all those that were dusted step through, locked and loaded and raring to go, ready to take back the world, the _universe_ , and soon everyone is racing forward with unrelenting determination, with a powerful hunger to finally, _finally_ , take the purple son of a bitch down.

It’s brutal, it’s furious, it’s terrifying. Tony dances through the air with his back to Pepper, power surging out of their suits in perfect synchronisation; he finds himself standing in front of Peter, gazing at him as a love so simple in its existence and yet so powerful for all that it means rises up in him steadily as he listens to Peter ramble on, and then the kid is in his arms and the fractured pieces of his soul pull together with steadfast stitching, but the fighting carries on because they need to win, this is their chance –

He sees Nebula fly limply through the air, sliding along the ground with such speed that a cloud of dust swirls into the air around her, and the anger he feels sends him barrelling into the one responsible, blasting the foul creature apart with such ferocity that there isn’t a single piece left.

He reaches down to pull Nebula up and can’t help the way that he frantically grabs her shoulder, needing reassurance that she isn’t hurt, that it is in fact _his_ Nebula standing there.

The light in her eyes tells him enough.

Peter’s frantic yell of _''Hey, nice to meet yo - whoaaahhh my gaaad!''_ over the comms has him shooting off into the air again and Nebula running back into the fray, as eager to finish this as he is.

After the battle, when everyone bursts into his hospital room and positively drowns him in love, Nebula hangs back, remaining stoic and still by the foot of his bed. She watches intently as Quill squashes him into the mattress, as Rocket sits atop his head and laughs raucously with pure delight, as Thor cries horrendously loud tears whilst rocking Tony (and Peter  and Morgan and Steve and Clint who happen to be standing nearby) back and forth in an embrace, and their eyes eventually meet over the madness.

He feels his heart stop for a moment as he notices the wetness in her gaze; a shimmery film that could be either real or synthetic, he isn’t sure, but it’s there and he can tell that she’s just as surprised by it as he is. He weaves his uninjured hand free from the hug he’s currently trapped in and extends it to her. She shakes her head, mouth setting into a tight line, but he understands, and gives her a smile, tears pooling in his own eyes as all that could be said passes between them without a single word.

The terribly cramped celebration carries on despite the insistence of Helen Cho that Tony is still severely injured and needs to rest. Clint wraps a conspiring arm around her and steers her in Thor’s direction, smiling sneakily as Thor immediately makes her blush by wrapping her in a firm hug and crying all over again. 

Tony’s attention is stolen by Peter as he takes a tentative step away from his bedside, maintaining a tight grip on Tony’s good arm as he does so, watching intently as the kid moves towards the figure still standing at the end of the bed.

''You, erm…'' Peter’s free hand flutters awkwardly by his side as he stands next to Nebula. ''You saved him after I...well...and I, uh,'' he takes a deep breath, ''just wanted to say thank you.''

It’s uncharacteristically short and rather lacking in any of the enthusiastic rambling that Tony knows and loves Peter for, but it fills him up with warmth all the same.

Nebula nods her head once, looking rather overwhelmed by the show of gratitude, and then her eyes go comically wide when Peter, having no idea of just who Nebula really is, wraps her up in a hug. It’s either a testament to Peter’s unfailing ability to make everyone fall in love with him or to how much Nebula has changed over the last five years that she does nothing but stand there for a moment before slowly lifting a hand to gently pat his back twice, her face void of any hostility or fear.

Tony, exhausted and broken and on the receiving end of some pretty hefty drugs, starts crying then for the fifth time in the space of an hour. Used to it by now, the others merely chuckle fondly, moving to press close together reassuringly as the reality of it all settles over them once again.

 

* * *

 

Tony gives Nebula a room in the guest house, goes a little mad with the decorating, pulling Peter and Harley in for help because even though Nebula is not the same age as them, she’s still so young, still so deserving of something as simple as this. He shows it to Gamora first, watching with trepidation as the woman spins in a slow circle, taking it all in before giving him a smile so eerily like Nebula’s that he can’t help but grin back.

When she arrives for that first visit, shy but obviously happy to see him, Tony doesn’t show it to her immediately, a funny sort of fear holding him back. They play catch out by the lake and he promises to take her to see a game, practically giddy with delight at the idea of her sitting in the stands with a hotdog and giant foam finger, before obeying the summons for dinner.

It’s much later when everybody is retiring for the evening that he finally bites the bullet and opens the bedroom door. Nebula pauses beside him, lingering so long that he has to give her a gentle push over the threshold.

Everything is soft and neutral in colour, because it’s the little touches that do the work; the glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling, the replica sword hanging on the wall, the squashy purple armchair by the window with a stack of carefully chosen comics sat upon it, the rows of pictures that line the shelves. Nebula goes to look at them first, eyes soaking in the images hungrily. There’s one of nearly everybody and there’s empty frames waiting for more, because Tony knows that no force on earth can stop a teenager with a smartphone.

''So?'' he asks, throwing his arms out. ''You like it?''

She hugs him then. A quick almost painful squeeze that begins and ends within the blink of an eye, and Tony counts it as one of his greatest victories.

 

* * *

 

The introduction to cheeseburgers is one thing, a crowning moment of triumph in Tony’s life that’s for sure.

Exposing Nebula to ice cream is something else.

They’re sat in the park, watching Morgan on the swings, waiting for Peter and Harley to finish their shopping trip with Ned and MJ, when Tony spots the old-fashioned cart sitting a little distance away. He tells Nebula to stay, earning a glare for his choice of words, and hurries over to the cart where he orders a small chocolate scoop for Morgan, two scoops of coffee for himself and one large scoop of strawberry for Nebula. He shouts for Morgan to come join them on the bench, dutifully tucking a napkin into her shirt as she eagerly takes the cone from him, legs swinging happily as she sits next to him, face turning rapidly darker as she licks away at the treat.

Clutching his own cone precariously, Tony holds Nebula’s out to her. She takes it cautiously and Tony chuckles brightly as she peers intently at it, holding the cone up close to her face so that the pinkness of it reflects prettily off of her skin.

''What is it?''

''Strawberry ice cream,'' Tony tells her brightly, licking the drips from his cone.

Nebula looks at him before she peers over at where Morgan is steadily turning into a sticky mess. The look of joy on the little girl’s face makes Nebula’s features soften almost undiscernibly, and then her tongue pokes out to take a delicate lick, stealing a swirl of pink away into her mouth.

Tony doesn’t even have time to warn her about the potential for brain freeze before she’s attacking the thing with gusto, devouring it like she hasn’t eaten for days, eyes wide with enjoyment until she’s clutching her head and helplessly leaning against Tony with a groan.

''Did she get brain freeze, Daddy?'' Morgan asks, leaning over to give Nebula a look of sympathetic understanding.

Tony chuckles and hooks an arm around Nebula’s shoulders, smile growing as she doesn’t even flinch under his touch but merely moans something that sounds like a threat at him.

''Oh, don’t be like that, Nebs,'' he teases, going back for more from his own cone. ''You’ve still got Stark Raving Hazelnuts to try yet.''

 

* * *

 

In New Asgard, the night sky is awash with stars.

It took a long time for Tony to be able to look at them without feeling the sickening surge of sorrow, the crippling memory of pain and blood and loss, but now he can look up and feel at peace, knowing that all is right with the universe.

He smiles at Nebula as she sits down beside him on the dock. The oversized fisherman coat that she’s wearing makes her look strangely small, nothing like the indomitable warrior that she really is, and Tony decides he quite likes the look.

''Why are you out here?''

Tony shrugs, legs swinging over the edge. ''There’s only so much kicking in the face I can take.''

At Nebula’s confused look, he elaborates, ''Morgan is a massive fidget when she sleeps.''

She nods then, mouth twitching with a smile.

They fall silent for a while, gazing up at the sky and listening to the gentle crash of the sea against the shore, shivering a little against the chilly breeze.

''When I saw you with the gauntlet…'' she says softly, ''I thought you would die.''

Her voice startles him. They’ve not spoken about the final fight since those first few days and even then, it had only been words of relief. 

Tony sighs. ''So did I, Bluebell.''

''I…was angry,'' Nebula admits, voice twisting on the last word. ''For so long I had hunted Thanos, swore that I would kill him, make him pay for all the suffering he put me and my sister through.''

She turns to look at him. The light of the moon bounces off the metal in her face, making it shine as though there are stars are living in her very skin. ''And you took that away from me.''

There’s no anger or sense of betrayal in her confession, just words that need to be said. Tony finds himself floundering, unable to apologise but wanting, _needing_ , her to know that he’s sorry, that he never meant to take even more away from her.

''Then I realised I wasn’t angry at you for doing what I always thought I was meant to,'' she tells him, shuffling a bit closer to that their shoulders are touching. ''I was angry because you chose to sacrifice yourself, put yourself forward even though it would mean leaving your family behind…I was angry because I didn’t want you to die like my sister had.''

Tony’s head jerks as he inhales sharply, feeling his heartbeat thrumming somewhere in his collarbone. He thinks of what could have been, if he’d had to watch anybody else wield that gauntlet, suffer the fate of the universe a million times over for the sake of one snap of the fingers, and the thought crushes the air out of him.

His eyes dart all over Nebula’s glowing face. She would have been brave enough to die if that was what it would take, and not for the reasons that she originally would have given her life up for; she would have done it for him, for the world she had discovered in the wake of the ultimate loss, for the family she had found herself a part of against all the odds.

He pictures her on the ground, colourful fury consuming her whole, burning her and pulling her apart piece by piece and he flinches, recoils against the intrusive thought, because after all this time, he knows without a doubt that he can’t picture this life without her, and the very idea makes him ache.

 ''I’d do it all again, you know,'' he tells her almost defiantly, unable to spare her feelings for the sake of his own stubbornness, for his own selfish need to never lose anybody else ever again. 

''I know,'' she replies and there’s a wry little smile on her face, making the brightness of her skin glimmer. ''So would I.''

He can’t help himself then. With a sudden move that would have had her reaching for her blade once upon a time, he lifts his arm to curl around her shoulders and pulls her gently down so that he can press a kiss to her forehead, lips just catching the edge of the piece of red armour that sits against her head smoothly in place of the part that was stolen by her former self.  She’d held it reverently when he’d gifted it to her, shown her the Iron Man suit that he had taken it from, and helped her fit it into place, nearly choking up from the way she looked at him afterwards.

She’s looking at him in the same way now, eyes wide and bright, only the slightest hint of confusion crossing her features before she returns her attention to the stars.

He keeps his arm around her and she doesn’t pull away until the cold wind sends them back to the warmth of the house.

 

* * *

 

They're travelling home on the jet when the realisation strikes Tony. Perhaps not even a realisation, more like a tinkling of a reminder in the back of his head because surely, he’s known all along just what this all means.

Tony looks over at where Harley is dozing in the chair opposite, head tilted back and mouth open in a silent snore and Morgan snuggled up against his chest, held in place by his arms, ever the big brother even in his sleep. He glances down at where Peter’s head is pillowed in his lap, curls fanned out in a halo, face peaceful and achingly young as he sleeps soundly. The heavy pressure against his shoulder has him tilting his head to look at Nebula, catching the look of sleepiness on her face as she jerks herself awake, bouncing back in her seat with the force.

''Hey, Bluebell,'' he whispers, smiling softly as her tired eyes find his. He lifts his shoulder in invitation. ''You’re missing out, y’know. I’ve been told these shoulders are a top contender for the best place to rest a weary head award.''

She smirks at him, open and warm, the same way he's seen her smile at Gamora.

The way she always smiles at him now.

He knows it then, feels it right down to his bones, just as he does for the others; for Harley who saved him in more ways than one and sparked that first sense of maybe, _just maybe,_ one day; for Peter who took apart all that he thought he knew about himself and threw it back together with unfailing adoration and love in every fibre; for Morgan who brought him back to life and introduced him to the magic that only childhood can bring.

For Nebula, the one who helped pull him back from the brink, the one who brought glimpses of starlight through the darkness and added to the brightness as his world came back to him. The one who taught him about a different kind of love; the gentle, slow growing kind of friendship that blooms to life slowly, waits patiently, soothes an aching soul and unites it with what it always needed, what it always deserved.

Nebula deserves love, and god knows, he’s got an endless amount to give these days.

He knows it, feels it, lets it consume him whole and hopes that she feels even just a fraction of the strength of it as he pulls her close and holds her steady as she drifts to sleep, head resting on his shoulder and fingers hooked into the side of his jacket.

''Mister Stark?''

Tony smiles at the rarely used moniker and looks down at Peter as the kid blinks sleepily up at him. Hushing him gently, he lifts a hand and smooths it across Peter’s cheek and into his hair, kneading softly until the kid drifts off again, but not before stealing a glance at Nebula leaning against Tony’s shoulder and closing his eyes with a smile.

Tony looks at them all again before settling back with a sigh, eyes drifting shut to the soft nearby chatter of Clint and his children from somewhere near the front of the plane.

He dreams of warm summers, blanket forts, steaming cups of coffee, red hair and the sweet voices of the four souls that make up his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god I hope that wasn't so terribly out of character that it was rubbish! I love Tony and I love Nebula and I wish we'd seen more of them because oh man, how perfect are they <3 Just give me Irondad and all his babies because it's just so precious. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you fancy chatting, hit me up under the same username on tumblr! I'd love to hear from you <3


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